


My Bloody Valentine

by crowleyshouseplant (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crowleyshouseplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The meat is a metaphor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bloody Valentine

Castiel unwraps a burger with Jimmy’s fingers. It’s juicy with grease and leaking mustard and red with ketchup instead of blood. The burger is cooked through, almost dry, crumbling on Jimmy’s tongue, too thin and scar-seared to really taste it.

Jimmy’s stomach has been empty for months. The contents Jimmy had filled it with one time long ago are long gone, consumed and burned away when Castiel funneled essence and being inside of him, running him over with celestial intent until he overflowed with searing light and flaming grace, burning every scrap of meat and fat away.

Castiel feeds on ground beef to fill up Jimmy’s stomach. Castiel returns to tables prepared with dollar menus, packaged condiments, slippery with grease and sticky with spilled coca cola, returns to paper bags full of meat and bread, and eats and eats and eats until Jimmy’s lips are slicked shiny with oil.

 _amelia cradled her swollen belly womb filled with claire pushing against amelia with tiny feet and tiny fists You’re so beautiful_

Castiel, cut off from heaven, leaking grace, is still an angel snug and suffocating beside Jimmy’s soul.

Jimmy stretches over Castiel, surrounding the angel with flesh flush with blood. Jimmy swells with Castiel, every atom of his body energized, sparking on the brink of explosion—big bang two—a promised sunburst for when Jimmy will come apart, every particle of him blown across the universe like dandelion fluff, every seed of him falling to earth.

But he is kept whole as the angel inside him dwindles, becomes smaller and weaker. Warrior of god, a sword sheathed in flesh, quiver nearly empty of arrows.

 _for two, jimmy said_

Castiel eats more burgers, licking fingers and lips like it’s something to be always done all the time. Grease spots the tan trench coat.

“What are you? The Hamburglar?” Dean asks.

Jimmy understands that Castiel isn’t falling—not like the other angel. Not like Anna.

There is no heavenly precipice from which Castiel can leap, tearing out grace during the big plunge, searing the skies with a comet’s tail.

Castiel is already on earth, cradled in flesh and blood, smoldering against the walls of skin and muscle with embers of grace.

“I’m an angel,” Castiel says. “I can stop when I want.”

When Castiel bites through meat and bread with Jimmy’s molars, chews with Jimmy’s jaws, the sound travels through Jimmy’s bones, drums against Jimmy’s ear, vibrating, thrumming the air with white noise.

Jimmy’s head is full of every noise save for the sound of angel voices and, even consuming so much meat, there is nothing but silence in the chasm between Castiel and Jimmy. The more Castiel chews, the more Jimmy’s jaw ache, the more Jimmy’s ears fill with noise.

“These make me very happy,” Castiel says, smiling with Jimmy’s mouth though the smile isn’t Jimmy’s at all.

Jimmy’s stomach is distended with food.

 _you’re eating for two now, jimmy said, smiling at amelia, handing her a cheeseburger sodden with mustard and ketchup_

Famine reminds Castiel that Jimmy is man made of earth. That Jimmy is dry, whirlwinds of dust barely kept together through physics, parched and thirsting for rain. The ground beef Castiel shoves into Jimmy’s mouth is wet, and Jimmy’s mouth waters with saliva.

They swallow, and Jimmy’s throat dries swollen, craving for more.

Castiel reaches for meat like being and grace stretched forth over the face of waters dimpled with fish, listening to the sound of Father’s creation, becoming one with it.

Jimmy’s body overruns with meat. Castiel scrabbles at the walls of Jimmy’s flesh, thick and pink and red. Sweat trickles down Jimmy’s back, pooling in the small of it where Castiel realizes that the vessel is bent, kneeling before a plate of dead cow, their mouths full of meat.

Castiel examines Famine’s hands—there is no ring. Jimmy’s belly is full.

But hunger splits Jimmy open— _do you want to hold her, jimmy, amelia asked, do you want to hold our claire, our baby-clarie_ —and Castiel falls into the hole, like seed waiting for something like germination, like gestation, for roots to descend and cage being to earth, leaves stretching out towards blue sky glittering with sun and stars and angel grace and Jimmy’s throat a tunnel leading nowhere, too small and narrow—nothing but shucked skin really—to contain Castiel’s voice.

Castiel approaches tables prepared with bread and alcohol until Jimmy’s flesh is saturated, until his throat is wet, until his belly is full and dizzy from hunger and Castiel stumbles, kicking against a body that feels something, the buzz of alcohol instead of the charge of heaven.   

And when Jimmy’s hands hold the blade, carving sigils into flesh humming with celestial intent, there is pain, splitting up and down from the navel, opening seams along the abdomen, coming away red and, maybe, Jimmy hopes, the force of the magic that Castiel is about to work will be fingers clutching a bloody heel, pulling Castiel from Jimmy with wrecking hands until Castiel’s eyes close, a comet gone to ground.


End file.
